


(I'm Not) Cupid

by Browneyesparker



Category: Person Of Interest - Fandom
Genre: Cupid - Freeform, F/M, Friendship, Romance, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-12
Updated: 2014-02-12
Packaged: 2018-01-12 01:07:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1180088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Browneyesparker/pseuds/Browneyesparker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Joss, I told you. . . I’m not Cupid."</p>
            </blockquote>





	(I'm Not) Cupid

**.**

The very words _Valentine’s Day_ was enough to make Shaw gag. She couldn’t stand the frills or the sappy songs, or the candy in nauseating shades of pink. She wanted to shoot every single couple that dared be happy in front of her (but Finch had forbidden, so she had opted for running away as fast she could.)

Yes, Shaw loathed, despised and abominated Valentine’s Day and the sentiment behind it.

Until the day she had come home to find half-a-dozen daisies waiting for her along with some non-pink candy and a simple card void of all nonsensical verse that she detested with every fiber of her being.

 _Maybe_ , Shaw reflected as she put her daisies in water, Valentine’s Day wasn’t all about romance and commercialized feelings. Maybe it was about a friendly kind of love too.

She made a note to thank her secret friend for being the first person to _ever_ think about on a day that she so often got overlooked on. . . right after she warned him from breaking into her apartment _ever_ again.

**.**

Finch was indifferent to Valentine’s Day. He could take it or leave it and he wouldn’t care otherwise. The songs were just songs, the pink hues were just colors, and the candy was just candy in different wrapping. And the couples with their radiant glow of happiness were people he hoped wouldn’t come up as the next numbers on his machine.

Yes, Finch wouldn’t notice if Valentine’s Day was canceled or not. It wouldn’t affect _him_ in any way, shape, or form. But he _had_ gotten used to finding his favorite brand of chocolate on his desk every Valentine’s Day.

There wasn’t ever a note or a card with the gift, but it touched Finch that somebody would think of him on Valentine’s Day even if it was in the friendliest of ways.

As Finch tucked the chocolate away for a special occasion, he told himself that the next Valentine’s Day, he’d have to remember _not_ to be indifferent towards it. He had a handful of people to let know that he cared, even if was in the most platonic sense of the word.

**.**

If Fusco didn’t have a son and his son didn’t have classmates then he was pretty sure he wouldn’t give a thought to Valentine’s Day. He wasn’t good with feelings, he fumbled and messed up and always said the wrong thing. He wasn’t a romantic, he didn’t have the kind of exterior that would make a woman look twice. He wasn’t the hero in a romantic comedy or a Hallmark movie.

Valentine’s Day wasn’t for him. It never had been and it probably never would be. There would never be dinners by candlelight or slow dances to a solo saxophone. He wasn’t even sure he wanted any of those things.

Until the day before Valentine’s Day when his son was reminding him about the party at school and how he needed to get Valentine’s for his classmates.

Fusco nodded, preparing to make a false promise (again), when he saw a box on the kitchen table. There were 25 envelopes, all addressed to his son’s classmates. On top of the cards was a slip of paper with an address to one of New York’s most expensive restaurants and instructions to dress up.

Maybe, Fusco thought as he showed his son the Valentines, he could be the kind of man who did romantic dinners and slow dances.

**.**

“Done playing Cupid, John?” Carter asked as she joined him on his afternoon walk.

“I’d hardly call it playing Cupid,” Reese replied. “You look gorgeous tonight Joss. Hot date?”

“Just with my son,” Carter replied. “But first I wanted to deliver a little something to you.”

“To _me_!?” Reese repeated, looking surprised.

“OF course John! Even Cupid deserves a little sugar,” Carter replied.

“Joss, I told you. . . I’m not Cupid,” Reese said, looking touched at the same time.

“Cupid’s helper then,” Carter said, smiling at him affectionately. “No more arguing with me, close your eyes.”

Reese looked at her suspiciously. “Joss. . .”

“Shhh,” Carter said, framing his face with her hands. “Mmmh. . . Happy Valentine’s Day John.”

And then she kissed him. For a moment he was brought back to that night in the morgue. He had been the one to initiate the kiss then and it had haunted his dreams ever since. He had started to believe that was all it was ever going to be.

“I thought we agreed we were just going to be friends,” he said huskily when she had pulled away.

“Yeah, well. . . I guess I changed my mind,” Carter replied sweetly, linking hands with him. “How ‘bout you have dinner with me and Taylor, Cupid?”

“I told you Joss, I’m not Cupid. But I can’t think of anything I would like to do more than have dinner with you and Taylor.”

“I was hoping you’d say that,” Carter said.

Reese didn’t reply, instead he turned around and smiled at her. “Happy Valentine’s Day Joss,” he answered.

And then he kissed _her_.

**_The End_**


End file.
